


this love (left a permanent mark)

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 04:27:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5571242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of unconnected oneshots focused on Maya and Lucas. </p><p>[9] things you didn’t say at all<br/>[10] things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear<br/>[11] things you said when you were drunk<br/>[12]  lucas and maya are ready to be together, but first they have to tell riley<br/>[13] things you said too quietly<br/>[14] assassin/target au</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. capital 'w' Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how many times she tells herself she can't have him, can't like him, can't want him, she does. So badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **gif credit** : [provokesmajlinka](http://provokesmajlinka.tumblr.com/post/136003333693)

[ ](http://provokesmajlinka.tumblr.com/post/136003333693)

They're in class, and this is 'capital W' _Wrong_. Matthews, and Riley, would call it 'inappropriate.' But then, when has Maya ever shied away from either?

She feels his thumb on her knee first, the faintest brush, and there's a moment where logic steps in. She should move, shuffle her legs out of reach, let him know this can't happen, she won't _let_ this happen. But these things, these touches, are becoming more common. The way he reaches for her when they're already standing so close that she can feel the fibers of his clothes rubbing against her skin. How he never steps back when she leans in, so they're chest to chest as she _ha-hurr's_ in his face. And she can feel his heart sometimes, beating against hers, or in the pulse at his wrist when she circles her fingers around it. She's not always aware when she does it, when she reaches back, when she grabs for him first. So it's not all his fault, she can't lay all the blame at Huckleberry's feet and let him drown in the blame. It's on her too. No matter how many times she tells herself she can't have him, can't like him, can't want him, she _does_. So _badly_.

But he's not hers. Even if he's not _technically_ Riley's, he will _always_ be Riley's prince. Her knight on the white horse. Her perfect match. Maya has never been perfect anything. She is broken and jagged and even on her good days, when she lets hope bloom bright in her chest, she will still always be just a little too sharp, a little too rough, a little too _Maya_. And it doesn't matter that he keeps reaching, like he thinks he won't get cut, won't bleed on her edges, won't tear himself open and retreat like all the rest. It doesn't matter because she knows how the story ends, how it has _always_ ended, and she is not the princess he rides off with for a happily ever after.

But his thumb has brushed her knee and his fingers crawl ever higher. Her own have reached the end of her black skirt, and when he stops and waits, she knows what needs to happen. She should pull back, turn her legs, let his hand fall. Put an end to it before it can ever really start.

When Maya was four, she learned the word 'rebellious.' Her babysitter, a crotchety older woman who had long lost any kind of patience, used to call her that whenever she refused to do something, and she refused to do a lot. She grew up on that word, survived on it, told herself there was nothing wrong in being a rebel. It was just who she was, it was in her blood, and it was better to rebel than to lay down and take what she didn't like or want or deserve. But this... She should not rebel against _this_.

If she could just let go. Of him and hope and those dumb fantasies of hers where she's happy and free and warm and loved, then it would be easier. Maybe there are some battles that can't be won, some she can't or shouldn't fight, and this is one of them. One day, when she pulls away enough times, he'll stop reaching for her. And she'll miss it at first. She'll miss the way her heart pounds in her chest and the burst of excitement that floods her blood when he smiles at her jabs and her nicknames. She'll miss how he looks at her, with stars in his eyes brighter than she's ever seen before. She'll miss the way he pushes her hair back from her face and tucks it behind her ear, how he says 'there you are,' like she's been hiding all this time and he's just finally found her. And she'll miss the way he tells her she's going to do great things and make great art and be whoever she wants to be, with so much _certainty_ that she almost believes him. She'll miss it all, but she'll get used to it. She'll move on. She'll stop wanting things- people- dreams- she can't have. _One day_.

It'd be easy not to reach for him. Not to want. To go back to shrugging off every awful thing that happens to her and adding it to that dungeon of sadness she hasn't visited in a while. But then her palm slides down her leg, fabric rubbing against her skin, and she feels the tips of his fingers against hers. She shouldn't look, but she does; she lifts her eyes to see his face and sees the smile that pulls up one side of his mouth. The sweet taste of victory.

He lifts his fingers and stretches them out, dropping them to drag down the ends of her fingers and along the top of her thigh. And she can feel as goosebumps break out on her skin, as he does it again and again. His touch is gentle and warm and promising. It's all she can focus on for the rest of class, forty-five minutes of a project they should be working on but have made no efforts in whatsoever. He has the outline in his other hand and they should be making a plan - maybe he is and she hasn't been listening; it wouldn't be the first time - but her mind is focused completely and totally on the constant stroke of his fingers. All she can hear for the longest time is the pounding of her heart in her ears. It sounds a lot like _hope_.

When the bell rings, he pauses, and then he squeezes her knee, just once, before he pulls away to start gathering his books.

Maya swallows tightly, her brow furrowed, and starts to do the same. Her leg is warm, like she can still feel him, and her fingers are tingling strangely. Not strange bad, just... _different_.

When he stands, he has his books on his hip and he's pushed his chair back over to another desk. He grins down at her and she rolls her eyes as she stands from her desk. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Sundance," she mutters.

But he just smiles wider.

And when they walk out of the room and into the hallway, his hand reaches for hers, the gentle brush of long fingers against her own. This time she doesn't fight it; she just reaches back.


	2. h/art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (AU) The first time Maya and Lucas meet, they’re adults, and he’s wandering around her art gallery, looking so very lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **polyvore** : [maya](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=187353892)  
>  **picture credit** : [canvasstudioart](http://canvasstudioart.com/)

 

  


Maya wasn’t a fan of taking breaks, not, at least, when she was working on a piece. But her assistant had teamed up with Riley to remind her that interacting with the world, or at least taking some time to eat and sleep, was necessary. All day long, Riley sent her inspirational Matthews quotes, interspersed with ‘have you eaten today?’ and ‘don’t forget to drink lots of water!!’ texts. So, Maya was taking a water break, hoping Ina, her assistant, would stop giving her that judgmental ‘take care of yourself’ look that she offered whenever she wasn’t downstairs, managing 'H / Art,' Maya's own, personally stocked art gallery. Maya was more of a ‘stay in her studio and not face the critical eye of her clientele’ type, which worked just fine for her. They bought what they liked, she avoided the heavy-handed criticism laced with haughty dismissal, and Ina made sure everything ran smoothly.

She’d just finished washing the paint from her arms and raiding the back kitchen for a bottle of water and a bowl of grapes when she spotted him. He wasn’t the only one shopping around, he was just the only one that stood out. Maya’s clientele were largely hipster-like in how they dressed. Intellectuals that wore it in their clothes, a message they expected everyone to receive on first meeting. This guy wasn’t like that. He was wearing a plaid button down over a t-shirt and a pair of comfortable jeans. She wouldn’t be surprised if he produced a ten-gallon hat from nowhere and tipped it in her direction.

Having done as Ina and Riley would want of her, Maya knew she could return to her art cave and not come out until her stomach screamed for dinner, but for some reason, her feet walked her toward the awkward looking cowboy that was standing in the middle of her art gallery, looking lost.

“Need some help?” she asked, popping a grape in her mouth and squishing it between her back molars. She arched her eyebrows at him as he turned to see her.

“Oh, uh, I… I’m not sure.” He smiled, wide and sincere and just a little bashful. “Friend of mine sent me over here. Said my office needed something for the walls, but…” He reached back to rub a hand over his neck. “Think this might be a little high brow…”

Maya hummed, giving him a quick look over, and popped another grape in her mouth. “What kind of office?”

“I’m a veterinarian. Lucas Friar,” he introduced himself. “I just moved here a couple months back. I had a practice back home in Texas, but, uh, I needed a change of scenery.”

She snorted. “Big change.” Pivoting, she looked toward the piece he’d been standing in front of. “So is the art for the animals or the worried owners?”

“Probably the owners. I was thinking of putting up a few paintings in the waiting room. Something calming, I guess. People get worked up when they’re waiting to bring their animals in, they always think the worst.”

“As someone who’s personally lost three hamsters and seven goldfish, I can promise you, the fear never fades.”

His mouth hitched up on one side as he laughed under his breath and turned to face the painting ahead of him. “So, you think anything here might help keep that fear at bay a little?”

“I don’t know. A lot of this stuff is more dungeon of sadness than sunflowers and rainbows.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve seen a few pieces that seemed happy.”

“Well, art is subjective, Huckleberry, some people see happiness and others don’t.” She grabbed up another grape. “Even if the artist tells you what it is, you’re probably going to find your own interpretation in there somewhere.”

He hummed, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Well, what about this one?” He jutted his chin forward. “You think it’s sad?”

Maya looked to the painting in front of her, shades of gray mixed with dark blues. The finished product of an ended relationship; her and Josh were doomed from the start, but that didn’t stop her from spending three years trying to make it work.

“It’s regret,” she said, chewing her lip. “Lost time, lost energy, the tail end of something that should’ve been great but only amounted to disappointment.”

He nodded slowly. “See, I don’t see that…” He took a step forward and pointed to a streak of orange in the top right corner. “Maybe it started that way. But there’s color in there too, underneath everything. Maybe there were good moments that snuck through, or maybe they’re ahead, I don’t know. But I like to think something good comes out of everything bad.”

She glanced over at him, an eyebrow arched. “You’re one of those optimistic people, aren’t you?”

He grinned. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not bad. Annoying, sometimes, but not bad.” She shook her head, her hair swaying at her back. “You remind me of someone…”

“Someone you like, I hope.”

She smiled. “Even when she’s at her Riliest.” Pivoting on her heel, she started walking. “Come on, I’ll show you another piece. This one’s a little more… _peppy_.”

“All right then.”

They travel through her white-walled gallery in search of one of her college pieces. Despite being one of the longest-hanging paintings in her gallery, and having numerous offers, Maya never sold it. She wanted it to go to the right person, and she just never felt like she’d met them. There were so many who had come to admire it, but none of them connected to it the way she wanted them to. They didn’t see what she wanted them to see. So she kept it, and she waited, even if that meant never selling it.

“Well, what do you think of this one?” she asked, waving a hand toward it.

Tipping his head, he gave it a good, long look, seeming to take in every fine detail. And then he stepped a little closer, like it might speak to him, tell him exactly what its purpose was.

“It feels… hopeful,” he decided.

“Hopeful,” she repeated.

“Yeah. Like… Like when the flowers first bloom in the spring and you can see new life coming up everywhere.”

Maya stared at his profile, at the half-smile curving his mouth and the way his eyes were still absorbing every brush stroke. “You really like this stuff, huh?”

Shrugging, he looked back at her. “I don’t know much about it. I grew up on a ranch and then headed off to college as soon as the ink dried on my diploma.”

“Y’know, I had a friend that used to say it was only people who lost hope that could recognize it.”

His gaze dipped for a moment. “Guess we all have our stories.”

“Yeah.” She smiled thoughtfully. “Guess we do.”

Tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he rocked back on his heels. “Maybe… Maybe it isn’t that only the people who lost hope can see it, but maybe it’s that they recognize how important it is when they find it again.” His brow furrowed. “Does that sound stupid?”

“No.” Her face softened. “A little fortune cookie, but not stupid.”

He laughed under his breath, ducking his head for a moment. “Well, good.”

Maya pointed at the painting. “This is a pretty old piece. I should show you something more recent. I’m sure we can find something a little more relaxing for your clients.”

“Sure. But… Is this one for sale?” he wondered.

Maya blinked, looking back at it. “I’m not sure this is right for the waiting room, Sundance.”

“No, of course not. But I wouldn’t mind having it somewhere else. I just…” He sighed, looking back at the painting. “You ever look at something and just think… That’s me. That’s how I felt once. Or maybe more than once.”

Humming, she stepped a little closer and tipped her head up to admire the canvas. “I think that’s what art’s supposed to do, when it’s done right. You see yourself reflected somewhere in every piece.” She pointed to a stripe of purple. “Like that. That is Riley Matthews. My best friend. Happy and optimistic and endlessly strong. And here…” She pointed to a splash of yellow. “That’s Topanga. Fierce amazon warrior. Right next to Cory—“ Vibrant green. “—life lessons and support and fatherly intuition.” Her finger wandered down to a whorl of red. “And Auggie. Sincere and strange and proud of it.”

He nodded, and then looked to her. “So where are you?”

“Well, I’m all of them. I’m made up of what they gave me and who they made me into.”

“What about who you are without them?”

“That’s probably somewhere in the gray scale, where I was rebellious and angry and too scared to hope that life would ever be any better than it was.”

He stared searchingly into her eyes, and Maya felt her heart give a little lurch. “I get that,” he said. “I get the anger and the resentment and the fear. Pretty much sums up my youth, actually.”

“Yeah? You figured it out though. Became a vet, that couldn’t’ve been easy.”

“It wasn’t,” he agreed. “I made some hard choices, figured out who I didn’t want to be, tried being who I thought I should be, and eventually found a good middleground.”

Maya nodded. “I mostly surrounded myself with good influences and stopped fighting their advice.”

He grinned. “Whatever works, I guess.”

She laughed. “Yeah, that’s for sure.” Staring up at him a moment longer, she finally pivoted on her heel. “We can talk about the sale price on this one later. For now, why don’t we see if there’s anything for the waiting room?”

“Sure.” He tipped his head. “Lead the way.”

Maya walked toward another area with smaller pieces. Nothing quite so existential as her other stuff. It was more sunsets and flowers and calming, neutral paintings that she did when she was in a certain kind of mood. These were Auggie’s favorites; she’d done a few pieces for him over the years and whenever he visited, this was where he ended up. Katy loved the hopeful pieces, because they spoke of something she always worried Maya would lose. Farkle enjoyed anything abstract, because it confused him just a little, and made him work to understand it. Topanga preferred the darker pieces, the ones she deemed _fierce_. Cory loved it all. He walked around her gallery with a proud look on his face, shaking his head as he speechlessly waved his arms around. It never failed to make Maya feel a hundred feet taller. And Riley, she liked the studio above, the works in progress.

An hour later, Lucas followed Maya up to the front counter, a piece of paper in hand with a collection of numbers marking which of her paintings he was hoping to buy for his waiting room. There were three in total, and she was planning on giving him a discount.

“I’ll have to call Ina over,” she told him, putting her empty grape bowl aside. “She covers all the sales and books.”

His brow furrowed. “I thought all these big places worked on commission.” 

“We do,” she said, nodding.

“So, doesn’t that mean Ina will get the commission?”

“Ina’s the only one that gets commission around here. She’s the only person that sells anything.” Maya shrugged, and then reached over to pluck the paper from his fingers, putting it down by the inventory book. “You’re getting a ten percent discount and the pieces can be delivered to your office tomorrow, if you want.”

“Uh, yeah, that’d be great.”

“Cool.” She tugged her phone out of the pocket of her pants, sending off a text to Ina to come help a customer before she put it away. “So? I guess you liked what you saw.”

“I did.” He nodded. “We were gonna talk about that other painting, if it’s up for sale.”

Maya’s mouth scrunched up. “That’s the oldest piece in this place. It doesn’t even have a price tag because so many people offer well over what it was and…”

“I get it. It’s one of those sentimental pieces.” He nodded. “The artist, she’s really good. I might not have much experience with art. In fact, I think the last time I was near a paint brush, I was touching up Pappy Joe’s barn. But… I don’t know. It’s like you said, I guess. I just, I see myself in all of her work.”

Maya swallowed tightly. “That’s a big compliment, Hop-Along.”

He laughed. “You think you might try calling me by my name?”

“I don’t know. I’m starting to get attached to the nicknames.”

“Well, maybe we just need more time then…” He took a deep breath and said, “Would you like to get coffee with me sometime? It doesn’t have to be today, but… Sometime soon, I hope.”

Maya stared up at him, a grin spreading across her mouth. “Sure. I could do that.”

“Great. Uh…” He shook his head. “I don’t—I must’ve left my manners in Texas. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

She laughed a little, under her breath. “Maya.” She saluted him. “Maya Hart.”

Lucas’ eyes widened. “Hart,” he repeated. “Like… Like the gallery?”

“Mmhmm.” She nodded. “Like _my_ gallery.”

As Ina walked up then, clipboard in hand, she smiled between them. “We’ve got a sale? Good for you, boss-lady. Did you get a snack? You work too much, you know that?”

“I got a snack and sold four paintings. Between you and Riley, I’m turning into a responsible adult.”

“Perish the thought.” Ina snorted, before stepping past her to the desk. “Hey, there’s only three numbers on here. I thought you sold four?”

“I did. He’s taking 203.”

Ina’s brows hiked. She glanced at Lucas and then back to Maya. “He is?”

“Yeah.”

“For how much?” she wondered, shaking her head.

“For free.” Maya shrugged, hands on her hips. “All I wanted was for it to go to a good home, to someone who would understand it, and… he does.”

“Maya… You were offered more than a million dollars for that painting,” Ina said, her voice pitched low so Lucas wouldn’t hear.

Considering he stiffened and managed a strangled, _“What?_ ” she figured Ina failed.

“I know, but that guy just liked collecting things people said he couldn’t have. He only went that high because I kept saying no.” She rolled her eyes. “Farkle offered to buy it for twice that _and_ a three-week cruise.”

Ina blinked. “You went on that cruise.”

“Who turns down a free cruise!?” Maya started toward the stairs leading up to her studio. “Just ring him up, all right? It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a really big deal,” Ina muttered, but sighed, turning around to face Lucas.

He stared after Maya, a little dazed. “Well hey, wait! Are— Are we still on for coffee?” he wondered.

Maya paused halfway up her winding staircase, grinning. “Sure, Huckleberry. I’ll even let you buy me dinner sometime.”

Smiling a little goofily now, he nodded. “It’d be my pleasure… _ma’am_.”

When he tipped an imaginary cowboy hat at her, Maya laughed. Oh, she liked him.

Downstairs, Ina finished logging everything in for the sales, before looking back to the smitten cowboy as he stared up the stairs.

“She’s something, huh?” he said thoughtfully.

Amused, Ina nodded. “Yeah, she is. But I’m sure you’ll find that out first hand.” She tore off his receipt and handed it to him.

Taking it, he tucked it in the front pocket of his shirt and said, “Here’s hoping.”


	3. new plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Lucas admits to Farkle he has feelings for Maya, she finds out, and there's no more hiding from the inevitable. [set in senior year]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **picture credit** : [loversareeverywhere](http://loversareeverywhere.tumblr.com/post/75428412112)

In retrospect, admitting to Farkle that he's in love with Maya may not have been the best idea. After all, his best friend has a habit of revealing people's feelings whenever he thinks it'll help or they deserve to know, and this time is no different. So, Lucas really shouldn't be surprised that Maya is confronting him. He's a little surprised she's doing it here, at school, but at least the halls are empty. Football practice let out a while ago and he's the only one left as he walks out of the locker room. But Maya is waiting. She's pacing a circle and fiddling with a ring on her finger, the same on Riley wore since middle school.

He doesn't get half way through her name before she turns on him, her eyes wide and a little wild.

"You're in love with me?"

She sounds angry, and he can already feel himself shaking his head, because that's not how this is supposed to go. Right? Love isn't supposed to be like this. This hard and painful and complicated. He's not supposed to fall in love with one of his best friends. His ex-girlfriends best friend too. But here he is, and there she is, and she looks like she's fighting tears, even as her hands ball up into fists. Like she can fight the obvious, the inevitable. But he's tried that, he's _been_ trying that, and he knows there's no point. He fell in love -he doesn't even _know_ when- but he's tired of pretending he didn't.

"Maya..." His voice is quiet. He hopes it's reassuring or soothing or _something_ , and he takes a step toward her, like she's a horse that might spook if he pushes her limits.

She's quick to take a step back, her hand out as if to stop him, to warn him off. "You _can't_ be in love with me!"

Lucas frowns then. "All due respect, I think I get to decide how I feel."

"No. Not if you're just throwing your feelings around like this." She tosses her hands up. "You don't fall in love with me, Sundance. You fall in love with Riley. That's how this story goes."

"You're acting like _you_ wrote the story, like you know how it all ends, but you're wrong." He stares at her a moment, and he knows she's scared, but suddenly he's not, not anymore. "Maya, I love you. I'm _in love_ with you."

"Lucas, _stop_!"

But he doesn't want to stop. He's been holding onto these woods for too long now, and they need to be said.

"I can't even remember a time that I _wasn't_ in love with you," he admits. "And I don't know if it started the moment we met on that subway or if it was just this slow build from middle school. But I know that I love fighting with you and I love talking to you and I love how _alive_ I feel when I'm with you. And I love the way you smile after you just ha-hurr'd in my face, and the way you protect your friends, no matter the cost, and how strong and smart and talented you are, even if you'll never admit you're any of those things. And I don't care if you think the story is supposed to go some other way. This is _our_ story. You and me."

He takes another step forward, staring into her eyes, and he takes it as a good sign that she doesn't step back.

"Me and Riley, we were a really good chapter, three books ago. You and me are the whole damn series, and I don't know how it ends. I don't know where it's going. But I don't want to miss out on anymore of it." He shakes his head. "So no, I'm not gonna stand on the sidelines and pretend that I don't want to kiss you when that is all I-"

Maya crosses the short space left between them, and she doesn't stop, not until she's lifted up on the tips of her toes, her mouth slanting over his. Her hand slides across his shoulder and behind his neck and he can feel the blunt edges of her nails scrape against his skin, a shiver crawling down his back in the same instant, before her fingers ball up the back of his shirt and hold on tight. Her mouth is warm and soft, seemingly in contrast with the girl herself, except that's exactly what she is, under all the armor and behind all the walls.

His arm is out, not quite around her, the ends of her hair drifting over his open palm. And then he _wakes up_ and he meets her, move for move. His duffle bag slips off his shoulder, falling to the floor at his feet, and then his arms around around her, pulling her in, and he's kissing her with the same intensity they put into their arguing. A build-up of more than three years of friendship and want and love. And he's imagined this moment, _so many times_ , but it is so much better than anything he could've thought up. The feel of her other hand on his chest, atop his quick-beating heart, and the way her breath skitters over his lips in between kisses, he's never going to forget these moments. They'll be seared into his memory for a lifetime.

When she finally slips back, feet falling flat on the floor, her eyes are still closed and she's licking her lips, a little pinker and puffier than usual. She blows out a sigh. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

He grins. "That's not how it felt."

Cracking an eye open, she glares up at him. "I had a plan. And no part of it included kissing you."

"Then it was a bad plan, in my humble opinion." He reaches up to tip an invisible hat at her. " _Ma'am_."

Maya's head falls back as she makes a frustrated noise, reminiscent of their early days.

And he grins even wider, staring down at her searchingly. "What if we tried a new plan?"

"What kind of plan?" Her brow arches skeptically.

"One where I take you to a movie and we put our hands in the popcorn at the same time and we see what happens."

"Lucas..." She shakes her head. "We can't."

"Why? And don't say because of Riley." His hands squeeze her hips. "Maya, we're not fourteen anymore, okay? There is nothing and no one between us. There's just you. And I get that you're scared-"

"I'm not _scared!"_

He smiles knowingly. "I'm scared too. _I am._ Because I want this. I want it to work. I want _you_. And maybe it won't. Maybe it'll blow up in our faces. But you know what? I'm willing to try. I'm willing to have my heart broken and stomped on and tossed out like yesterday's trash. I just want a chance. That's all. I just need you to believe that maybe we can work, and then let us _try_."

She swallows tightly, her gaze falling for a moment, and then she looks back up at him. "One movie, and I'll buy my own ticket, and we better get an extra-large popcorn because afterwards, I'll end up at Riley's, telling her every lame, cheesy thing you said, and you know how she is about popcorn."

Lucas grins. "Yeah?"

And Maya doesn't bother to stifle her own, hopeful smile. "Yeah."

"Okay."

He doesn't let go of her as he reaches down to grab up his duffel bag. He doesn't let go of her for a good long while, in fact. They leave the school together and make their way down to the subway. They need to make a pit-stop at his place, but he plans on taking her out for that movie tonight. He's not wasting time, he's done enough of that.

And in a few hours, when the nights ends with a goodnight kiss (more than one, if he's being honest) outside the Matthews' building, he waits until she's climbed through Riley's window before he pulls out his phone and calls Farkle. In this particular case, his friend deserves a thank you.


	4. cold [drabble]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **prompt** : one character dressing another, or the other way around

“Will you just admit you’re cold?” Lucas raises an eyebrow as he walks beside her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. 

Maya’s shivering and hopping from one foot to the other, and this isn’t exactly how he imagined their date going. 

“I’m _not_  cold!” 

“Maya, you just blew on your hands.” He shakes his head, smiling at her. “If you want my jacket–”

“I don’t need your stupid jacket, Huckleberry. I’m fine.” 

He sighs. “I told you it was gonna get cold tonight.” 

“ _I told you it was gonna get cold tonight_ ,” she mimics, in a voice far too high-pitched to be his own. 

Rolling his eyes, he says, “That’s not what I sound li–”

“Ha- _hurr!_ ” she interrupts, glaring up at him. 

Biting his lip to keep from smiling, he pulls his hands from his pockets and starts undoing his jacket.

Her face clears and she takes a step back. “I’m serious! If you take your jacket off, I’m not going to put it on. You can’t make me!” 

“Will you quit acting like a five-year-old?” Shrugging his jacket off, he swings it around her and onto her shoulders. When Maya merely scowls up at him, he takes each of her arms and threads them through the sleeves and then buttons the front. It’s very obviously too long for her much shorter frame, but at least she’s mostly covered. “There. Better?” 

She purses her lips. “My hands are cold.” 

“Well, see, that’s what gloves are for.” He takes one of his own gloves off his right hand and slides it over her left. “There.” 

She raises her right hand and wiggles her fingers at him. “What am I supposed to do with this one? Sacrifice it to frostbite?” 

Lucas laughs under his breath and then reaches up to take her hand, threading his fingers through hers. He cups their palms and blows in between to warm her skin before he lets their joined hands fall to swing between them. “Good?” 

She looks down at their hands and then back up to him before she shrugs. “Not bad,” she tells him.

“I try my best…  _ma’am_.” He tips an imaginary hat at her, and Maya scoffs, shaking her head. But she’s smiling, and she’s not shivering anymore, and Lucas calls that a win.


	5. comfort [drabble]

“Did you read it?” 

Maya looks up, quickly swiping at the tear tracks on her cheeks. “What?” she scoffs. “No, of course not.” 

“Maya…” Lucas, still rubbing sleep from his eyes and wearing his favorite pajamas, swings around the dining room table to take a seat in the chair adjacent to hers. 

“ _Don’t_. Don’t use that ‘you’re being unreasonable’ voice, okay?” She pushes back against her chair and crosses her arms over her chest. “I get it. I’m an adult, I should be able to handle this, but I can’t. And I don’t _want_ to. He shows up a couple times when I’m fourteen, makes his excuses, and then breezes out again, and now, _ten years later_ , he wants to be pen pals?” She shakes her head. “No thanks.” 

He stares at her searchingly for a long moment before reaching across. She expects him to push the sealed envelope toward her, to push the issue, but he flicks it out of the way with his fingers and covers her hand with his own. “That wasn’t my ‘you’re being unreasonable ‘ voice. It was my ‘what can I do to make you feel better’ voice.” With a faint grin, he tells her, “They must sound alike.” 

Maya snorts, raising her eyes to meet his. “I don’t need him in my life. I– I’m _happy_. I have my job at the gallery and I have Riley, and Farkle, and my mom is happy with Shawn, and I have  _you_.” She turns her hand over and squeezes his. “I have you. I don’t need Kermit.” 

“No, you don’t. But if you want him in your life, if you change your mind…” He reaches for the letter and turns it right side up, so she can see the slanted writing in the corner, where the return address sits. “You know where to find him. When you’re ready.” 

She nods, chewing on her lip. “Yeah.” 

“Until then…” He stands from the table, circles around to press a kiss to the top of her head, and says, “How about pancakes? Huh? We still got strawberries and I can make whipped cream.” He squeezes her shoulder gently and, before he can leave, she covers it, keeping him there. 

“Lucas?” 

“Yeah?” 

She taps her fingers over his knuckles and whispers, “Thanks.”

His thumb flicks up against her own. “Anytime.” 

As he walks to their kitchen to start digging everything out to make breakfast, Maya watches him go a moment, a faint smile pulling at her mouth. And then she looks down to the letter on the table, with her name written across the front. There was a time when she would have given anything to hear from him, to get answers, to find comfort in his words. But not know. Maybe one day she’d write back and maybe one day they’d repair their relationship. But for right now, she was okay with that being a vague, distant idea more than anything. 

Pushing up from the table, she walks toward the kitchen, slippers shuffling on the floor. “Where do you want me, Huckleberry?” 

He grins as she sidles up next to him. “Right here’s good.” 

She rolls her eyes, but tips her head back and smiles into his kiss. She has to hand it to him. She spent an hour moping over that letter and what it could mean, and all it took was five minutes with him to right her world again. It was probably a good thing she married the cowboy. 


	6. yee-haw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **picture credit** : [darren martin](http://www.artflakes.com/en/products/new-york-city-fire-escape-3)

He opens the window with one hand, the other still scrubbing at his face. He was sleeping, she can still see how it clings to his face, a shroud of not-quite-awake. His jaw cracks as he yawns but he leans out the window on his elbows and offers her a tired, tilted smile. “You sure you’re got the right window?” 

He heart is pounding so loudly, she almost can’t hear him. “Trust me, I asked myself that a few thousand times just climbing the fire escape.” She thought about backtracking, going to Riley instead, but here she was, tempting fate.

Brows furrowed, he shakes his head. “What’s wrong?” 

“I need to say something. And it’s serious. Like, ‘change everything’ kind of serious, and I need you to just listen.” 

“Okay…” 

“No interrupting, not for any reason,” she stresses. “Just… Let me get it all out. And when I’m done, I’ll go, and you can go back to sleep, and we can pretend this whole thing never happened.” 

“Why would–?” 

She presses a hand to his mouth, her brows hiked. “Starting now.” 

He stares up at her, takes a moment to consider it, and then nods. 

Maya slowly peels her hand from his mouth, and then she just kneels there, the cold sinking through her jacket and chilling her skin. And part of her wants to run, it wants to turn tail and not look back. But a bigger part of her tells her to stay, to stop running, stop _hiding_. 

“When I was six, I asked my mom what love was, and she said it was forever. It was a _promise_. And two years later, my dad packed his bags and walked away. He just... _left_. And suddenly forever seemed so much _shorter_ than it was supposed to be.” Her hands shake, so she presses then down against the window ledge to keep them steady. "And I held onto that. I remembered it, every day, because the look on her face when we came home every day and he wasn’t there, when days and weeks and months passed and he just never came home, it _killed_ me. Because she tried so _hard_ to be strong for me, but I kknew she was falling apart. I could hear her crying herself to sleep every night. Until she just _stopped_ and she let him go and she gave up on all of it. On love and finding someone and ‘forever.’ Seeing her go through that, knowing how much it hurt, I knew I didn’t want to fall in love. I _never_ wanted to feel like she did. Because he broke my heart too and I never wanted to give anybody else that kind of power. And I was doing _really_ good for so long...” 

She laughs humorlessly, her eyes stinging. “I was okay without it. I was okay without hope. Because as long as it was for suckers, I could convince myself I wasn’t missing out on anything. I wasn’t walking head first into something I knew would only knock me down in the end. And then… Then _you_ were there. And I told myself it didn’t matter. Because you were Riley’s and you were such a _Huckleberry_ and there was no way you would _ever_ look at me like you did her. So it was okay. Because you were _safe_. You were safe to like in the lines of my journal and in between insults and when nobody was looking, because if I could convince _myself_ that it was nothing, then it really was.” 

She pauses, and huffs out a defeated breath. “The thing is, I’m not sure if pretending works like its supposed to. Because I thought if I stepped back, if I just let things happen like they were supposed to, if I helped Riley get her prince, then I could be okay with it. And I was, for a _really_ long time, I was okay with that. Because Riley– She deserves the _world_. And you… You do too. I might not say it, but there it is. You deserve someone great, and maybe that’s Riley for you and maybe it isn’t. I don’t know. I do know that I want you to be _happy_. And I think that’s what my mom got wrong. 

“Love isn’t forever. Nothing is ever a guarantee. Sometimes love is temproary and sometimes it’s not. But what it _should_ be is whatever makes you happy. So that’s what I want for you, Lucas. And I don’t have to be a part of it, I don’t have to be the reason or the root, but if I help make it happen, even a little bit, even just as your friend, then good, _great_ even.” 

She swallows tightly, her fingers biting into the edge of the window sill. “And that’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.” Staring at him searchingly, her brow pinches and her teeth scraping at her bottom lip, she nods. “Get some sleep, Sundance. We’ve got school tomorrow.” 

She pushes off the window then, turning to leave, but then his fingers are around her wrist, holding on. Not too tight, just enough to make her stop and look back. 

And he smiles, that soft, warm smile of his. “Can I speak now?” he wonders. 

She glances away briefly. “Depends.” 

“On?” 

“You don’t need to say it if it’s going to hurt. I can fill in the blanks on my own.” She half-smiles, shrugging. “You can just let go and we can go back to ten minutes ago, when I never said a thing.” 

“I don’t want that.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to go back and I don’t want to break your heart.” His thumb strokes across her wrist. “I wanna try to make you happy, Maya… If you’ll let me.” 

Her heart skips and she draws a quick breath, her eyes a little wide with surprise. “Yeah?” There’s a feeling in her stomach that feels a whole lot like the slow, hopeful stir of butterflies. 

He nods. “Yeah.” 

She tamps down on a grin and raises an eyebrow. “You think you’re up for the challenge, Cowboy?” 

He smiles slowly. “I think I am.” 

It’s a risk, a big one, but she turns her hand over and threads their fingers together. “Yee-haw, I guess,” she says. 

And he laughs. “Yee-haw.”

It might be temporary. It might end in tears and heartbreak. Or... it might not. All she knows for sure is that right now, right here, she’s happy. And that’s enough.


	7. cold feet (drabble)

Lucas sat calmly in an arm chair, his bow tie left undone, and his best man’s speech in hand as he went over it one more time. There was still plenty of time; the ceremony itself hadn’t even happened, but he liked to be prepared. Looking up from the cue cards, he watched Farkle do another round of pacing and shook his head, a faint tilt to his mouth. “Would you calm down already? You’re gonna wear a hole in the carpet if you keep this up.”

Inhaling and exhaling with exaggerated effort, Farkle clawed at his neck. “I think I’m having an asthma attack.”

Lucas blinked. “Considering you don’t _have_ asthma, I find that highly unlikely.”

“Maybe it’s late on-set,” Farkle croaked out. “Maybe a great-great grandparent had it and never knew and now it’s going to kill me, today, of all days, when I should be getting married.” 

“You _are_ getting married.” Lucas rolled his eyes. “It’s just nerves.” 

“ _Blasphemy!_ I have been planning this day since the moment I met Riley. Admittedly, I’d once thought there would be _two_ brides rather than one, but I’ve come to accept that Maya and I were not meant for a romantic love.” 

He snorted. “I’m sure she’ll be real broken up about that.”

“How’d you do it?” Farkle wondered. “You didn’t panic at all. You were cool as a cucumber on your wedding day.” 

“We all react differently, I guess.” 

Farkle glared at him. “As my best man and best friend, I demand you tell me your secret. Was it over the counter drugs?” He gasped. “Was it _under_ the counter drugs?”

Shaking his head, Lucas rolled his eyes. “I just wasn’t nervous. I knew I was doing exactly what I wanted.” Shifting forward on his seat, he rested his elbows on his knees. “Listen, do you love Riley?”

“More than is quantifiable,” he answered with a brisk certainty. 

“And you would do anything to make her happy, right? You’ll spend your whole life doing everything you can to be a good partner to her? Someone she can love and rely on and who’ll support her through everything coming.” 

Farkle’s brow furrowed. “Yes, absolutely.” 

“Then what’s there to be scared of?” Lucas grinned. “This is a great day, Farkle. You’re marrying the girl of your dreams.”

“Not just my dreams, my reality too. Riley is the best parts of me. She’s a whole person, her own person, but she’s also my other half. And I don’t know what I’d do without her. I… I don’t want to know.” 

“Good. So…” Lucas stood and patted Farkle’s shoulder encouragingly. “Marry her then.” 

“Right.” Farkle nodded. “Okay. I… I’m going to be Mister Riley Matthews-Minkus.” 

Chuckling, Lucas nodded. “You sure are.”

Smoothing out the lapels of his jacket, Farkle took a deep breath and turned. “I’m ready, he said decisively, and started toward the doors leading out into the church.

Lucas tucked his speech away in the pocket of his jacket and followed after him. Just as he stepped into the hall, he was met with the curious image of his own wife.

“Is he all right? He was acting a little strange.” 

“Doesn’t he always?” 

Maya snorted. “True.” She took a step toward him then and reached up for his bow-tie, quickly putting it in order. “You ready, Huckleberry? Our best friends are officially tying the knot.”

“ _Finally_ ,” he muttered.

Grinning, she smoothed out his tie and took a step back. “There. Perfect as ever.”

Sliding an arm around her waist, he tugged her against his side and kissed the top of her head. “Hey, were you nervous on our wedding day?” he wondered.

Covering his hand against her hip, their wedding bands gently knocking together, she tipped her head back to look at him. “No. Why?”

He shook his head. “No cold feet or anything?”

“Nope.” She shrugged. “I knew I was marrying my best friend… My _cowboy_ … There was nothing to be scared about.” 

A slow grin pulled his mouth up and he nodded, leaning down to kiss her once, twice, and a third time before he said, “I love you.”

“Love you too, ya sap.” She bumped his side with her shoulder. “Now lets get these dorks hitched. I want cake.” 

Laughing, he happily let her drag him forward.


	8. amnesia

Maya has the mother of all headaches hammering away at her temples, and she is not here for it. Raising a hand to her head, she wonders if she and Riley got into her mom’s liquor supply again. It hasn’t happened since high school, and for good reason. When she blinks her eyes open, she immediately groans at the assault of white light and slams her eyes closed once more. 

“Maya?!” That voice. She knows that voice. “Oh my God, Maya, are you awake? Wiggle a finger, send up a smoke signal, give me a _sign!_   _Peaches?!_ ” 

“Lower the volume,” Maya grunts. “And shut off the lights.” 

Riley gives a painfully loud screech and grabs onto her hand. “You’re okay! I knew you would be! I never lost hope, I swear. If they went for the plug, I was ready to claw some eyes out.” 

“Nobody tried to pull the plug. There was no _mention_ of any plugs.” _Matthews_. 

If she wasn’t in so much pain, she might actually smile. “What’s with the serious voice, Matthews?” 

A brush of fingers against the back of her hand is gentle and reassuring. “I reserve it for serious matters… And this one qualifies.” 

Maya tries squinting her eyes open and finds, this time, it doesn’t hurt quite as much. Casting a look around the room, she sees Riley on her left and Matthews on her right. There’s chairs scattered around with the odd jacket or book lying in wait. And Maya wonders who else might be hanging around, because there seems like a few too many chairs to fit her modest brood of friends and family. 

“Question…” She looks down at herself, laid up in a bed with wires lining her arms. “Why am I in the hospital?” 

Riley’s brows hike and she turns to look at her dad, who’s looking a little grayer around the temples. Maya decides to point that out later, when she’s up to laughing at her favorite old man. 

“You don’t… remember?” Riley asks, hedging a little. 

“All I know is I have a _killer_ headache… Any chance one of these tubes is hooked up to a pain killer?” she wonders, following them up to a few bags and machines. The presence of so much _stuff_ throws her off for a moment; maybe Matthews wasn’t kidding about the ‘seriousness’ level.

“Okay.” She smooths her hands over her lap. “Hit me with it. What happened?” 

“Maybe we should wait for the doctor,” Matthews suggests, frowning. 

Maya opens her mouth to argue, because it’s in her nature, but, before she can, the door to her room swings open, and in walks tall, blond, and handsome. Headache or not, she can admit there’s a serious _whoa_ moment.

“I brought dinner,” he says, a hint of an accent peeking through. “Topanga took Katy home to get some sleep. She fought us a bit, but she went eventually.” In his hands are a few stacked food containers, presumably holding dinner. His eyes dart toward Matthews then. “She said she’d bring coffee ba–” He pauses, spotting Maya, and suddenly he’s handing the boxes off to Riley and rushing to the side of her bed, a hand on her upper arm. “ _Hey_ …” His voice, tired and stiff before, is suddenly soft and soothing. “You woke up.” 

Maya stares up at him, all pearly white teeth and bright blue eyes. His hand is reaching for her hair, stroking a loose curl back from her forehead. “You gave us a scare, short stack.” 

Her brow furrows. “All right, Cowboy, back it up a bit. Personal space is your friend.” She wiggles a little where she lays, feeling a flush climb the back of her neck. “Not that I don’t like an audience when I first wake up in the hospital due to unknown reasons, but… who are you?” 

He blinks at her, leaning back a little. “I… _What?”_

 _“Who. Are. You_?” she enunciates, barely restraining from rolling her eyes. Cute, but dumb. 

He stares at her a long moment, his mouth slack, and then murmurs. “I… I’m Lucas.” He searches her eyes, looking for.. _. something_. “You don’t… You don’t recognize me.” It’s not so much a question as a statement. 

“No. Should I?” 

“He doesn’t ring any bells?” Riley asks, stepping closer, her eyes wide. “Not any part of him?” She reaches up and squeezes Lucas’ face with her hands. “Are you sure? The lighting in here is terrible. Maybe you need a better look.” She pushes him forward, hands falling to his shoulders and shoving him close to Maya. “Anything?” 

Maya stares at him, close enough that she’s almost cross-eyed. “Look, I don’t know who he is, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t appreciate the manhandling. Ease up, Riles.” 

“Oh no. Oh, this is bad! This is really, _really_ bad.” Riley begins pacing, ringing her hands, and then turns to her dad. “Fix it,” she tells him. “Make it better.” 

“I’m not sure this is something I can fix, honey.” Matthews turns to look at Maya with the kind of sad, defeated look on his face that makes her stomach twist up uncomfortably. 

“Okay, clearly I didn’t get the memo.” She points at Lucas. “Who is he? Why does he matter?” 

He stares at her, his expression stricken. “I’m Huckleberry,” he says quietly. “Or I was.” 

“You _are_ ,” Riley assures, turning to Maya worriedly. “Tell him he still is.” 

“What?” Maya shakes her head. “What is going _on?”_

Drawing a deep breath, Riley tries to center herself and then she reaches into a bedside table and rifles around in the drawer. With an exaggerated  “ _a-ha!_ ” she tears a plastic bag open and comes up holding a shiny silver ring, which she then thrusts toward Maya. “ _He_ … is your husband.” 

Maya stares at the ring, her heart dropping into her stomach, and then she looks past it, to the man now standing at the end of her bed. His shoulders are slumped and that handsome face is worn and sad now. Her gaze drops to his hands, searching out and finding the right finger. There sits a silver ring, a little wider than the one Riley’s holding, but it’s a match all the same. 

And Lucas, with a faint, humorless smile, says, “ _Surprise_.”


	9. things you didn’t say at all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you didn’t say at all

She calls it quits on the whole dating triangle _thing_. Not because she doesn’t care, but because she cares _a lot_. Maya knows how this ends, she knows who ends up on the white horse with the prince. She reconciled herself with this when she was a kid; she is not the type to get good things. Except maybe something in the shape of hope snuck in one night when she stood in front of a fire with warm hands on her face and her heart in her throat. But this, hoping somehow he can love her more than Riley, it feels like a fool’s dream. Because she knows Riley, she _loves_ Riley, she looks at Riley and thinks that the world has to be good in some way, because it created _her_. So even if, somehow, against all logic, he picked her, she wouldn’t want him to, not at the expense of Riles. 

So she puts on her brave face, she smiles through the pain, and she tells him, “I’m over it. It was a cowboy shaped phase and I’m moving on. Be with Riley. Be happy. Fall in love with her cotton candy face.” 

[ _I can’t do this anymore. Because I’m falling in love with you, and one day you’re going to realize that I’m not it, I’m not_ her _, and that is going to hurt so much more. So I’m walking away while I still have a chance of not being completely_ obliterated _by this._ ]

And he stares at her, brow furrowed, and a confused “What?” trailing from his mouth. 

She pats his chest. “It’s okay, Hop Along. No hearts were broken. Nobody’s hurt. I want this. For you and her and myself. You’re my friend, and I don’t want anything more than that.” 

[ _It’s not okay, not totally, but it will be. Eventually. When I can look at you and not feel butterflies, not think of fire and war paint and the way your hands felt on my face._ ]

He’s staring at her, and his mouth is opening and closing, but no words come. 

She turns on her heel, grins at Riley, and tells her, “He’s all yours.” 

[ _He was never really mine._ ]

Riley is all concern and love and support. “Maya… are you sure about this?” 

“I’m a hundred percent, okay? It was just… I don’t know, hormones and puberty and all that junk. I mean, let’s be real… Me and Sundance? It’d never work.” She shrugs. “I’m over it.” 

[ _I’m not sure. I’m really not. But I need to do this._ ]

“I… If you’re sure.” Riley doesn’t look completely convinced, but there’s also hope lurking around her eyes, like maybe this is it, maybe it’s just that easy. 

Maya nods. “I am.” And then she turns, thumb pointing to the window. “I’m gonna head home so you two can…” She waves between them, “ _whatever_.” 

[ _I can’t keep standing here, lying. Please, let me go. I need to get out of here._ ] 

Riley blushes, eyes darting to Lucas, who still looks confused and unsure. 

But Maya’s done. She can’t say much more than what she has and she’s emotionally exhausted. She climbs out the window and down the stairs and tucks her hands into her pockets as she starts down the sidewalk for home. And she tells herself it’s just the wind, that’s why her eyes sting, why her throat hurts, why her heart has tumbled down to die a slow death in her stomach acid. She tells herself this is the right thing to do, for him and Riley and herself. She’s saving herself from more pain down the road. But it doesn’t feel that way right now. It feels a lot like tearing her own heart out and stepping on it repeatedly with a stiletto heel. 

Maya tips her head back, lets the wind dry her tears, and tells herself, “It’s okay. You’re okay.” And maybe it’s not the whole truth, but she is an Amazon warrior. Did she love him? Maybe. But her world keeps spinning and she will get through this.

[ _I will be okay_.]


	10. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow-up to previous chapter

Lucas doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. His momma would have a few things to say about how rude it was. But when he hears his name, he hesitates, lingering in the hall, and finds himself listening in. 

“So you really broke it off? Just like that?” Zay asks. 

“Yup,” Maya answers, snapping her fingers. “Like pulling off a band-aid.” 

From where he’s standing, Lucas can see Zay’s back as he sits on a bench while Maya leans against a wall, one foot out and her arms crossed loose over her chest.

“I call bullshit.”

“Excuse you?” Maya raises an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me who I like. I get to decide who I like!” 

Zay shrugs. “I’m not making your mind up for you, I’m telling you that you _did_ decide and now you’re pretending you didn’t. Anyone with eyes knows you care about Lucas–”

“As a friend!” 

“–as a _lot_ more than a friend.” 

Maya glares at him. “I made the choice. _Me_. You don’t get to tell me it’s the wrong choice.” 

“Look, I’m not going to pull a Farkle and announce to everybody we know, plus a few strangers, that you lied about your feelings. That’s on you. You’re right, it’s your choice. Do I think you made the wrong one? _Yeah_ , I do. But you gotta figure that out on your own.” 

She shakes her head, pushes off the wall, and starts to pace. “You don’t get it.” 

“What’s to get? You liked Lucas, he liked you, you exited stage left and told him you wanted to stay friends.” He throws his hands up. “I miss anything?” 

“Yeah, the part where he was also dating Riley! Who he _really_ likes, and who likes him, and who he belongs with.” 

Zay lifts a finger in contention. “See, now that’s where I think your argument fails.” 

“What? _How?_ ” 

“Well, it’s like you said. _You_ made the choice to walk away. _You._ Not Lucas. You don’t get to decide how he feels. You don’t get to tell me or him or even yourself who he would’ve picked. Because he never got a chance to. 

“He had a chance. He had _plenty_ of chances, and he didn’t pick. He _couldn’t_. So what’s that tell you?” 

“Honestly, that the boy is too worried about what other people think and want to figure out what _he_ wants… Look, I like Riley. She’s awesome. She’s all sunshine and rainbows and unicorns. It’s great. And I like you. You’re all edges and teeth and an electric fence of protection. You’re awesome, Hart. But you two come on like a tornado, you got him all twisted up, doesn’t know which way he’s going, which way’s up or down or right. You two are a packaged deal and he knows if he picks one, the other one is still gonna be there, and they’ll be hurt.” 

“Right.“ She nods. “Which is why I did everyone a favor and stepped back.” 

“Okay. But what if he didn’t want you to.” 

Maya sighs, throwing her head back. “We’re talking circles here, Babineaux. It doesn’t _matter_. He liked both of us. We’re great, like you said. But this whole triangle thing was only going to end badly.” 

“For who?” 

“For _me_!” she exclaims.

Zay stays calm. “Why?” 

“ _Because!_ ” Her pacing picks up. “Because it always does! Because why would he pick me when he can have Riley? Because I’m a Hart and nothing good ever happens to us, not unless it’s going to get ripped away. Because he is too _good!_ He’s cowboy boots and manners and caring about everybody he meets. And I– I’m barbed wire and paint spatter and I hoard the few people I like and _screw the rest!_ Eventually, he would’ve realized I’m not good enough. I’m not _nice_ enough. I’m not–” 

“Riley,” Zay supplies. 

“Yes!” She throws her hands up. “Okay? I’m not Riley. I can’t _be_ Riley. And Lucas… He _deserves_ Riley.” She groans then, and swipes her hands over her face. “Just… can you leave it alone? _Please_. I made my choice. It’s done. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” 

He nods. “Sure. Whatever you want.” 

“Thank you.” Tiredly, she shakes her head. “I need to get to the art room. They said I could use it for an hour. We good?” 

“Sure. No problems here.” 

She half-smiles and nods at him before she goes. And Zay sits, alone, until finally he asks, “You hear all that?” 

Lucas hesitates, but eventually steps out from the hallway, hand gripped tight to the strap of his bag. “Some of it.” At Zay’s raised eyebrow, he admits, “ _Most_ of it.” 

“Didn’t take you for a lurker, Friar.” He pats the seat next to him and Lucas walks over, dropping down to the bench with a sigh. 

Lucas stares at the floor, at where she’d paced from one end to the other. Everything she said is racing through his head and he has no idea how to feel or what to think. He’s just overwhelmed and confused and, well, a little pissed, if he’s honest. At himself and Maya and whoever convinced her she wasn’t good enough.

“So?” 

Lucas turns to him. “So?” 

Zay is unimpressed. “What’re you gonna do about it?” 

He bites his lip. Because that’s the question, isn’t it? The same question he’s been asking himself from the start. Since he met a beautiful blonde girl on a subway train and then a pretty brunette fell in his lap not a minute later. Since his first kiss and his first date with Riley. Since _ha-hurr_ and _Huckleberry_ and ‘ _it’s one minute to midnight and I’m glad you’re standing here_.’ Since a fire in Texas and his hands on her cheeks and her eyes were so big and blue and he could still hear his heart pounding in his ears and he hesitated, why did he hesitate? Because of Riley. Because of Riley _and_ Maya _._ Because their friendship does, should, _will always_ come first, and he doesn’t want to come between that. 

So he says the same thing he’s been saying and thinking from the very beginning. “I don’t know.”


	11. things you said when you were drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said when you were drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warning** : underage drinking

Maya is suddenly regretting her choice to drag a drunk cowboy home. He's entirely too tall, making any attempt to hold up half his weight more than a little difficult. But Lucas was three sheets to the wind and, regardless of their romantic history (or lackthereof), she's still his friend, so leaving him to pass out in a pool of his own vomit in some stranger's house was not an option.

"C'mon, Huckleberry, I need a little help here. We've got two floors to climb… My building doesn't have a fancy elevator, all right?"

He mumbles something and buries his face against her hair, breathing in deep. "Smell good."

Maya rolls her eyes. "Yeah, showering does that for you. Pipes might leak, but they do their job when I need it."

He hums, long and deep. While he's wobbly, he manages to climb the next few stairs without falling flat on his face. She can feel his mouth moving again and she's really hoping he's talking and not trying to _eat her hair_.

"What?" she asks, drawing her head back. "You say something, Sundance?"

There's some mumbling, but she definitely makes out the words, "Shoud'a picked you."

Maya stills, looking up at him, and then frowns. He and Riley aren't a thing, haven't been for a while. They tried it and it didn't work out. But there's history, and still some uncertainty on Riley's part. That maybe it wasn't the _right_ time, but they would get together eventually, because she and Lucas were just _inevitable_. Maya's done her best to separate herself from any and all romantic feelings she had for him. It wasn't going anywhere good, just leading to a whole lot of heartbreak on her part. Better to walk away before it hurts too much.

"If I remember right, you didn't pick anyone. _I_ did." She pats his chest reassuringly. "It's old news. No hard feelings."

"I wanted to…wanted _you_ … I just… You don't know what it's like. You and Riley… Couldn't screw that up…"

"You didn't. Me and Riles will always be friends. Nothing and no one is ever gonna get between that. No matter how cute he is."

He grins at her then, goofy and drunk. "Think I'm cute?"

She snorts. "Your face isn't the worst."

He nods. "You think I'm cute."

Rolling her eyes, she leads him to the next flight of stairs. "Yeah, yeah, stroke your ego later. My mom gets home in a half hour, so you need to pick it up so we can hide you in my room before she sees you. Last thing I need is a lecture about safe sex."

He trips over a step. "Sex? _What?_ "

She laughs. "Relax. I'm not going to take your purity ring off with my teeth."

Getting his feet under him, he tells her, "I don't have a purity ring."

" _Heathen_ ," she jokes.

He laughs, his head falling back, and she has to tighten her arm around his waist so he doesn't topple them down the stairs.

Amused, she shakes her head. "Okay, get it together, no more distractions."

He nods a little sloppily, but the message gets through.

Fifteen minutes later, Maya throws a blanket over Lucas, curled up on her floor, hugging an oversized stuffie under his head for a pillow. She snaps a picture with her phone, hits the light, and climbs into her own bed.

It's a few minutes in the dark before he says, "Hey, Maya?" His voice is muffled a little by the stuffie.

"Yeah," she whispers.

"I meant it."

"Meant what?"

"Should've picked you when I had the chance."

Maya doesn't know what to say. So, instead, she stares up at her ceiling, her brow furrowed. Eventually, she hears him snoring, and turns onto her side, staring at his sleeping face, lit faintly by the street lamp coming through her curtain.

"I wish you had," she murmurs.

He doesn't answer, and when she wakes up the next day, she doesn't mention it, just shows him the picture of him cuddling her stuffie and tells him it was hell to drag him up the stairs. When he doesn't bring it up either, she figures it was just one of those things. Maybe the only inevitability for them is to always miss their chance.


	12. it will be okay (in the end)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas and Maya are ready to be together, but first they have to tell Riley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter rating** : teen/pg-13  
>  **ship** : maya/lucas | riley&maya brotp  
>  **prompt** : angst  
>  **word count** : 1,507
> 
>  **gif credit** : [source](http://moan-s.tumblr.com/post/121837037129)

**it will be okay (in the end)**

* * *

Riley is staring at them with tears in her eyes. Her lower lip wobbles and her breath catches. " _What?_ "

"It just happened. I…" Lucas shook his head. "We wanted to talk to you first."

" _Talk_ to me?" She looks between them, her brow furrowed. They're not touching, but they're close. Maya just a few inches behind Lucas, wringing her hands, and him, standing so tall and serious, his chin tilted, like he expects a fight. And part of her wants to give him one. "But we decided… _Years_ ago, we figured this out."

"That was before…" Maya's voice is uncharacteristically weak and quiet, like a whisper she's not sure she wants to be heard.

"Before _what?"_ Riley blinks back her tears and glares at them. "Before you went behind my back?"

"You and me, we aren't together. We haven't been for a long time," Lucas says.

And yes, okay, that's true, but… It's _temporary_. They break up sometimes but they figure it out, because that's what people do when they love someone. They fight but it's okay, because as long as they have each other, they can make it work.

"We always get back together." Riley's staring at him now, willing him to understand, to take this back. To rewind to a few minutes ago, before the love of her life and her best friend announced that they wanted to be together, that they cared about each other.

Taking a deep breath, she steps forward and peers up at him. "How many times have we broken up?"

He sighs, shoulders slumping. "Six."

"And how many times have we made up?"

"Five."

"Right. Because we love each other. Because we fight but we work it out, because sometimes I'm too much and sometimes you're not enough and sometimes… Sometimes…" She trails off for a moment, because that's not right. That didn't _sound_ right. "Wait. I– I didn't _mean_ …"

But Lucas doesn't look mad, he looks _knowing_. And somehow that's worse.

Riley blinks, her certainty of before beginning to piece away, and she turns. " _Maya_ …?"

Maya looks hopeful. "Yeah?"

"Tell me this is a dream. Tell me I'm asleep and this isn't happening and you aren't here and you and Lucas aren't…"

Maya blinks fast against her own tears. "I can't… I can't tell you that."

"Why?"

"Because. We don't lie to each other."

Riley feels her heart crack and she wraps her arms around herself. "I don't understand. I… I did everything right. I was a good person. I do good things. I _loved_ you."

"You are. You did." Lucas nods. "Riley, it's not that I don't care about you. You're one of my best friends, and I… I hope you always will be. But… I'm not your Prince Charming. I'm not who you need."

She shakes her head. "But that's not how it goes. That's not… _right_."

"Who says what's right? Maybe you don't meet your soul mate on the subway or when you're thirteen. Maybe you meet them later. Maybe they're just not who you think they are." Maya half-smiles at her. "Riley, Lucas isn't the be all, end all of your life. He's just a boy. Just _one_ boy."

"Well, what is he to _you_? Why do _you_ get to have him?" she bites out, angry and sad and defensive.

"He's not a prize, Riles. I didn't _win_ him…" Maya bites her lip and hesitates for a moment. She takes a step forward until she's right up against Lucas. Her hand finds his, fingers folding together, and the other wraps loose around his wrist to slide up his forearm. It should look possessive, but it mostly looks grounding. A mutual anchor. "I don't want to hurt you. I _never_ want to hurt you. But I _like_ Lucas. I– I _really_ do. And I know that right now that feels like having your heart ripped out. I know that right now you might h- _hate_ me, but…" She stops, and tips her head back to clear her tears. It doesn't work and one falls down her cheek.

Riley _is_ hurt. She wants to yell and scream and throw them out. But another part of her wants to reach out and wipe away Maya's tears, tell her no, no she could _never_ hate her. She's caught between the two, and so she stays rooted on the spot.

"Riley?" It's Lucas, inching her along, searching for what? Approval? Disapproval? Hatred? Forgiveness?

Finally, Riley takes a deep breath. "I think you should go."

Maya looks stricken, but instead of letting Lucas go, she only seems to hold on tighter. "Riley… Honey…"

"Stop. _Please_." She waves her hands at them. "I don't hate you. I don't. But… I'm hurt and I'm angry and I really just want to cry. So _please_ , just… Just go."

They linger a moment, and Riley can feel her throat tightening and her eyes burning and she doesn't want to do this in front of them. But usually Maya would stay. Maya would hold her and pet her hair and tell her it's all going to be okay. Only Maya's part of the reason she's hurt so she can't stay. She can't make this better.

Finally, Lucas moves. He nods, silently, and turns to the door, towing Maya along with him. And for a moment, Riley is angry. Not at Maya, but at Lucas, because he gets to leave with Maya when she was Riley's first. Riley's _always_.

The door closes behind them and she goes to the bay window, slumps down and hugs a pillow against her stomach. And she cries. Of course she cries. She struggles to breathe and her nose runs and she probably looks like a mess. But it's good, it's cathartic, it's exactly what she needs.

Her mom checks on her, her dad too. Auggie drops in just to tell her to 'get it together, sister.' She throws a pillow at his head. Riley skips dinner and stays in her room, asking herself what went wrong. What she did or didn't do. Why things didn't work out the way she wanted or expected. How this is going to work now. She doesn't have any answers.

It's after ten when her window cracks open and a familiar blonde crawls inside.

"I know I'm probably the last person you want to see, but… I really hurt my best friend and I feel like a jerk and the only person I can really talk to about that is _you_. I figure you might feel the same and… If you want me to leave, I will, but if you want me to stay… We can talk or not talk or you can tell me what a crap friend I am, whatever makes you feel better."

Riley kind of wants to tell her to go. She wants to be mad and vengeful and to put it all on Maya. But another part of Riley, a much bigger part of her, wants Maya to stay, wants them to be who they were before. So instead, she moves over on the bench, and watches from the corner of her eyes as Maya takes a seat beside her.

It's quiet at first, tense and awkward. But then Riley leans over and puts her head on Maya's shoulder. "Was it me?" she whispers.

"No." Maya wraps both arms around Riley and squeezes. "You tried, you tried really hard. Sometimes people fall out of love, and that's okay." She rubs Riley's back. "Be honest, weren't you tired of it? Fighting, breaking up, putting it all back together."

Riley lets out a heavy sigh. "Maybe."

"I should've talked to you first. Told you that I still had feelings for him. I should've been honest with you."

"So you're really together now? You and Lucas, a real couple."

"Yeah. I– I guess. We're still figuring it out. It's new and a little weird and… Part of me wants to scrap the whole thing. If it's going to hurt you. If you want me to. But another part of me _really_ likes him and I think we could be good together."

Riley rubs her cheek against Maya's shoulder. "It's gonna be weird for a while. For me. But… Don't break up, not because of me. I'm not happy about it. I don't know how I feel, exactly, but… I want you to be happy. More than anything."

"You're a good person, Riles." Mays presses her head down against Riley's. "What'd I ever do to deserve you? Huh?"

Riley wraps her arms around Maya and holds on tight. "Will you pet my hair and tell me it's all going to be okay?"

Maya presses a kiss to the top of Riley's head and then lets her fingers stroke her hair. "Hey?"

"Yeah?" she whispers.

"It's all gonna be okay. I promise."

Riley takes a deep, shuddery breath, and lets it out on a sigh. It still hurts, and it will for a while, but she thinks Maya's right. It'll take time, but it's going to be okay. _She_ will be okay.

 

 


	13. things you said too quietly

Maya doesn’t open up easily. She prefers to distract. To downplay. To shrug it off. Because laying it all out is scary; it’s like opening up her chest and leaving her heart open to any and all attacks. 

Falling for Huckleberry seemed easy at first. He was so good and nice and would never do anything to hurt her. She never thought about how she might hurt herself. How she would close up and swallow back her words and hide her edges. How she would pretend to be _less_. Less broken, less complicated, less _Maya_. 

Lucas didn’t fall for less. He fell for her. So when she starts pulling away. When she avoids the big conversations and she hides from the tough feeling, he notices. And there’s only so long he can hold on until it feels like he’s holding her back. 

She sits on the edge of the bed, picking at dried paint on her hands, not quite watching as he gathers up his things. His favorite football jersey and baseball cap and the plaid shirts she likes to wear while she draws. He leaves all the pictures, all but a strip of black and white snapshots taken at a fair. He tucks those in the pocket of his shirt and she pretends not to watch from the corner of her stinging eyes. 

He’s slow about it, like he’s hoping maybe she’ll fight him. Jump up and say everything she’s been holding back. But Maya doesn’t want to be loud. She doesn’t want to fight this if it was always going to be this way. Some things are inevitable, and hope is for suckers. So she lets him pack it all away in box after box and take it down to his truck. She lets him take away every little bit of himself until she can see holes and hollows that weren’t there before. Spaces he used to fill. Places he used to be. 

And then, all he’s got left is him and a key. He puts it on the bedside table and stands in front of her, inches away. If she reaches out now, she can hook a finger in the loop of his jeans, pull him in, pull him _back_. Her fingers twitch but stay in her lap. 

Lucas sighs. He bends and drops a kiss atop her head, and she closes her eyes. She listens to his footsteps as he leaves and the click of the door as it closes behind him. And in the quiet of the room, she says, too late and too quiet, “I love you… I’m just scared.”


	14. assassin/target au

In the “Most Likely To” section of the yearbook, Maya was firmly under the headline of “get arrested.” She surprised her graduating class by joining the ARMY. She surprised herself by becoming a decorated sniper. And then she surprised her best friend by becoming a well paid and highly recommended assassin. 

“Listen Peaches, you know I’ll support you in anything and everything you do...” Riley’s voice crackled over the phone. 

Maya nodded as she took apart her gun, laying it, piece by piece, across her table, to be cleaned. “I  _do_ know that _.”_

“Good! That’s good. But, when you say  _assassin_...” 

“They’re bad people, Riles. The kind of people that would never be invited into Rileytown.” Tapping her clip against her chin, she said, “Not even Mayaville would take them.” 

“I admit, that’s a little comforting.” 

Maya smiled. “ _But_...?” 

“But you’re better than this. You can  _do_ better than this! You have medals that  _prove_ that when you put your mind to things you get them done. So, I don’t see why you can’t pick something a little less...” 

“Murdery?” 

“ _Yes!”_  

“Well, maybe I’m not meant for less murdery. Maybe I’m meant for  _more_ murdery.” Maya shrugged. “We’ve all got our paths in life, honey. This might just be mine.” Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her table and looked down at the phone in front of her. “You know you can’t save me from everything, right? Sometimes people go down a path they can’t turn around from. And sometimes they were always meant to go there.” 

Riley was quiet for a long, contemplative moment, but when she did speak, her voice was firm and certain. “I don’t believe that. I believe people can always change for the better.” 

“If that’s true, then they can change for the worst, too.” Half-smiling, Maya shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about me, Riles. I’ll be fine.” 

“Will you?” Riley wondered softly. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?  _Who_ you want to be?” 

“No,” Maya admitted honestly. “But I’ve never known what I wanted to be or who I was. And maybe this will help me figure it out.” She reached up then, dragging her hair up into a high ponytail and pulling the elastic off her wrist to tie it. “I gotta go. Things to do, people to kill, you know how it goes.” 

Riley hummed. “Peaches?” 

“Yeah?” 

“When you’re ready... When you want to come home... I’ll be here.” 

Swallowing tightly, a lump in her throat, Maya nodded. “I know you will.” 

“Don’t take too long, okay? Don’t wander too far.” 

Blinking at the burn in her eyes, Maya licked her lips. “I’ll try.” 

“I love you.” 

She sniffed and quickly rubbed a hand over her nose. “Love you too, Riles.” 

With that, she pressed the End button on her phone, and then she slumped back in her chair, staring at the gun in front of her. The room was quiet aside from the faint ticking of a clock and her breathing. If Matthews were there, he would tell her she was at a crossroads. One lead back to New York, to Riley, to the comforting arms of her best friend, and the other led somewhere darker, somewhere colder. 

Maya had always seen Riley as a glitch in the thorny path of her life. She was sunshine and rainbows and unwavering faith and hope, the exact opposite of everything Maya had ever been. And some days she wanted to be like Riley, she wanted to be filled with the glow of everything good the world had to offer. Other days, she told herself that maybe her job wasn’t to have the glow, but to protect it. And she did. She made sure that during the entirety of their friendship, Riley was always protected, always happy and warm and untouched by the cruelty that life had to offer. But that meant more cruelty for herself, more brushes with the dark side, and eventually, she had to know her life would lead her here. 

There was a folder with a general write-up and a few pictures of her intended target. His brother wanted him removed so he could inherit everything. So, maybe what she told Riley was a lie; not all of them were bad people. They were just  _people_. Good, bad, something in between. Maya had no idea who Lucas Friar was or why his brother couldn’t just be happy with what he had. Greed got the best of people more often than not. What Maya did know was that this was a job, one she needed, and one that could mark the beginning of a whole new life and career.

Maybe her ‘Most Likely’ column wasn’t completely off. There was time yet for her to fulfill the prophecy and get herself arrested. But she guessed they expected low level crime like vandalism or something; she’d been an avid spray painter in her youth, murder was a bit far off from that. Shit happened, though. People changed. For better or worse. Whatever that meant. 

 

* * *

 

 

Texas was too hot for Maya’s liking. Her skin felt dry and stretched while her clothes were damp and sticky, clinging to her body in a way she wasn’t used to. She’d always preferred the comfort of loose clothing. It concealed weapons and curves alike. Growing up, she’d gotten her fair share of ogling and she’d always answered it with a sharp tongue and a middle finger. But she lived in a shady part of town, so most people just laughed at her show of attitude. Maya was small, something that could help or harm her, depending on what she was doing. High shelves were the enemy, but squeezing into tiny spaces to get the right angle on a shot was a lot easier. It also meant she blended in a little easier, ducking behind taller, broader bodies when she was following someone. 

Lucas Friar was the local vet in small town USA. A cowboy type that cured the sick critters and smiled at every person he saw. He was a Hee-Haw if ever she saw one. While there weren’t too many in New York, he had Huckleberry written all over him. She imagined Riley would have stars in her eyes over him, at least back in middle school. By high school, she and Farkle had started their moony-eyed lovers shtick and they’d been going strong since. All the power to ‘em, she figured. 

From what little was in the packet, Friar was the eldest son of a rancher that had built a pretty big enterprise behind him. The ranch had been passed on to him, along with most of the money, after his father died. Papa Friar had been rolling in it and, while he did give a sizable inheritance to his middle son and youngest daughter, it was clear who his favorite was. Jeremiah Friar had taken offense to that, however, and decided the only way to deal with it was to have his brother removed from the picture. The fee he was willing to pay was exorbitant, but Maya hadn’t let it show. Even if dollar signs were dancing on her brain, promising a nice place in New York and all the things she’d always wanted for herself. Like a fridge full of food and an electricity bill that didn’t have  _Overdue_ or  _Final Notice_ printed across it in bright, angry red ink. It sounded simple, in retrospect, but when one grew up struggling like she and her mother did, having enough money in the bank to cover the bills and buy food meant a lot. She was already planning on dropping a comfortable chunk of her earnings into Katie’s bank account and not mentioning why or where it came from. Her mother probably wouldn’t even ask, just appreciating the generosity for what it was and not seeking out answers to questions she probably shouldn’t ask in the first place. 

Lucas had an easy schedule for Maya to follow. He was up at 5 am every morning, helping the farm hands out with the care and feeding of the animals, even mucking out stalls when it was needed. He drove into town in a well-used blue Ford and started his work day at his private vet clinic, where he treated everything from pet hamsters to wild horses. He had one lady at the front desk that organized everything, Jessie-Lynn Whitehall, and a protege, fresh out of vet school, that shadowed every move he made, Bobby Manning. Home by six each night, though he was on-call for any emergency calls, Lucas ate his dinner on the porch, watching the sun set over the family ranch. He had a manager that took care of the buying and selling of animals, Carly Summers, who caught up with him on the weekends, to make sure he was keeping up with family business on top of everything else. 

For all Maya could tell, he was good at what he did, and a good man on top of it. His sister, Amy, lived out of town, with her husband and three kids; she was a dental hygienist that didn’t seem to have any idea what kind of trouble was brewing between her brothers. She didn’t seem to be in on Jeremiah’s plan or in line to gain anything from Lucas’ death, and it gave Maya a moment of pause, thinking of what it might be like for her to lose her brother just a few months after her dad died. Her job wasn’t to care; it wasn’t to think about what might happen in the aftermath. But Riley and her father had drilled it into Maya since she was little that there were consequences to her actions and other people mattered. They had to. But they weren’t there, they couldn’t turn her around and set her on the right path this time. It was all on her. 

And she was going to do her job. 

 

* * *

 

 

Maya didn’t mean to bump into him. She usually kept her distance. It wasn’t too hard to keep an eye on him from afar, he had a good foot on her. Being that it was her first job, she decided to tail him for a couple weeks, to make absolutely sure that she had his routine down so she wouldn’t be interrupted when she took him out. Jeremiah had been clear that it could not  _look_ like a murder, but like an accident. Whether that meant he was trampled by one of his horses or a car accident, he didn’t care, he just didn’t want it tracing back to him. To make that happen, Maya needed to be sure there would be no unexpected snags. While she’d killed before, it was in the name of her country and all that jazz. It was armed people that were going to kill her or her team. She did what she had to do to survive and make sure as many of her brothers and sisters went home, too. That didn’t mean she wasn’t haunted, that she didn’t wake up in a cold sweat remembering their faces and the pressure of a trigger under her finger, the scope pressed to her eye, hard against her cheek. It wouldn’t be like that this time. She had to get up close and personal, to sneak in under the radar and remove the obstacle face to face. 

Lucas was in good physical condition. He wasn’t a soldier, but he took care of himself. If she stared at the lithe lines of his arms and hard-packed muscle across his stomach when he dressed down in a tank top and jeans, using his shirt to wipe sweat from his face while he worked around the ranch, well, who could blame her? But she wasn’t expecting much of a fight. He was too good, too wholesome for that. He wouldn’t know what to do with those muscles. They were just there for show. For the pretty little cowgirls that sidled up to him in the grocery store and flirted with him as they passed him in the street, giggling and squeezing his bicep as they asked him how work was and if he was going to take some time off to drop by the local bar and get some dancing in. He was always polite and kind, offering up a toothy, white smile before he gently rebuffed them.

Maya wasn’t sure why. He didn’t seem to have anybody waiting on him. It was just him in that big ranch house. Him and a surly old dog named Rufus. His friend Zay dropped in to visit him from time to time, mostly Fridays from what she could tell, and usually in an effort to get him to come out and join in on the mediocre nightlife. Maya wouldn’t call square dancing at the bar much of a nightlife, but there were a few times she caught her toes tapping to the songs. Not that she would  _ever_ admit that. But a catchy beat was a catchy beat, banjo’s and all. 

Lucas was on his way into his favorite coffee shop --large coffee, two creams, one sugar, and a big slice of banana bread-- and she was on his heels. She liked the coffee there, and he always lingered in the window seat to sip at his coffee and eat his food, people watching and waving at those who recognized him as they passed by on the sidewalk outside. For some reason, though, he stopped, and she managed to walk right into him. 

 _Oof_.

At some point, and she wasn’t quite sure how, their legs got tangled up, and she was headed for a hard landing on the pavement, only it never came. Because he  _caught_ her. Arm looped behind her back, he stared down at her. “You all right, ma’am?” 

She stared up at him, a little wide-eyed. “Nothing’s broken,” she said in return. 

“You sure?” His mouth hitched up on one corner. “You wanna wiggle your toes for me? Make sure they’re all there.” 

“Little forward, don’t you think?” 

He laughed, and pulled himself upright, drawing her along with him. “You didn’t knock your head on the way down or anything, did you?” His hand carefully touched the back of her head, like he was looking for a goose egg. 

“You always this handsy with strangers in the street?” She batted his hand away. “I didn’t hit anything. I didn’t have a chance to. You swept in before I could, a regular Prince Charming.” 

“Well, just doing by civil duty,” he joked. “After all, it my fault you tripped in the first place.”

“Yeah, you should work on that walking thing. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk can lead to collisions.  _Obviously_.” 

His mouth stretched up again, and Maya looked away, because her heart was doing some strange flippy thing that it hadn’t done since middle school and Josh Matthews. A crushingly awkward memory she wished she could scrub away. 

“I’ll keep that in mind for future,” he assured, nodding. “You’re sure you’re all right, though?” He searched her eyes. “I’m not gonna get sued later when you suddenly have whiplash?” 

She snorted. “I think you’re fine.” 

“Now who’s being forward?” 

A flush crawled across her cheeks, but she narrowed her eyes at him. “Har, har,” she muttered.

Licking his lips, he rocked forward on his feet. “Hey, why don’t you let me make it up to you? There’s a coffee place near here; they make a good banana bread.” 

Maya stared up at him, her brow furrowed. “You don’t have to do that. It was an accident. No harm, no foul.”

“Maybe not, but... I want to.” He stared down at her, that genuine look on his face that struck her a little strange. The only people she’d ever known that were that sincere were the Matthews, and she’d always felt like the weird little stray they took in and just couldn’t bare to get rid of. No matter how ill fit she was to be around them. 

“Well, that’s nice of you, but—” 

“If you’re busy, maybe I could make it up later. There’s a new band playing at the Barfly tonight. My, uh, my friend Zay said they were pretty good. We could get a drink, see if they’re worth the cover charge,” he suggested. 

Maya’s mouth gaped a little. This was so  _not_ going as planned. She should turn him down. Saying yes would only lead to complications. Getting close to a mark was career suicide, and would only spur up that wonky conscience of hers. But a little voice in the back of her head said it could be good. That it would help her get the job done if she could explore the ranch a little closer, even get a better idea of what his schedule was like when work ended and home time began. It was easier than sneaking past any number of animals and into the house to take him out. 

He was rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, looking nervous now. “I’m sorry, if I’m coming off a little forward. I didn’t mean to. I just—” 

“Sure. Tonight, the Barfly. I like music, and beer, so it’s a win/win.” 

He grinned widely then. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Could be fun.” 

“Well, great. Uh, I- I could meet you there. Or pick you up? Are you close to here?” 

“I’ll meet you there. What time’s good?” 

“Eight? That’s when the live music starts up.”

“Okay, eight it is.” 

“Great, that— that’s great.” He was still smiling, and staring, and she shifted her feet. “Oh! I— I’m Lucas!” He thrust a hand forward. “Lucas Friar.” 

“Maya,” she answered, reaching out to shake his hand. And she knew it was stupid, giving him her name like that, but it was too late to take back now. 

“Maya,” he repeated, his expression softening. “Well, Maya, I’ll see you tonight. Eight o’clock sharp.” He started backing up then, staring at her all the while. 

“Don’t you think you should watch where you’re going, Huckleberry? You’ve already caused one accident,” she reminded, tucking her thumbs into the belt loops of her jean shorts. 

He grinned. “Didn’t turn out so bad, did it?” He didn’t wait for her answer though, turning on his heel to make his way toward the coffee shop. 

She stared after him, a curious look on her face. 

This was  _guaranteed_ to blow up in her face... But when had that ever stopped her from doing something reckless? 

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re going on a  _date_ with him?” Riley was reaching close to ‘shrieking’ levels.

“It’s not a date, it’s just... beer, and music.” Maya shrugged as she walked around her motel room, searching for her make up bag. She remembered tossing it into her suit case, but she had no idea where it had wandered off to, and her room was  _covered_ in all her clothes, tossed haphazardly over every available surface. 

“Music and beer is exactly what you like on a date!” Riley reminded.

“It’s not a date.” She sighed, digging through a pile of shirts. “It’s just... recon.” 

The noise Riley made was somewhere between pained and frustrated. “Maya, are you really sure about this? I mean, I’ve never assassinated anyone—”

“No...  _Really_?” She snorted. 

“—but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t involve going on a date with the guy you plan to kill. That’s just... It’s weird. Isn’t it weird? It feels  _weird.._.” 

Sitting down on the bed, Maya shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not like I have a lot of experience in this. I just... I was following him. And then something happened, some weird moment where we bumped into each other and things just kind of  _escalated_. And before I knew it, he was asking me out and I was going to say no, because yes, it is  _definitely_ weird. But then I thought ‘hey, this could be good. The closer I am, the easier this whole thing will be and the faster I can get it done or over with.’” 

“I don’t know... Have you really thought this through? I mean, before he was probably just a name and a face, but now he’s going to be a person. A real person. With a voice and story and a  _life_... He’s going to be  _real_ to you, Peaches. He’s not just paper anymore.” 

Maya chewed her lip. “Well, that’s a risk I’m going to have to take...” 

“Okay... Just— Just be sure you know what you’re doing, okay? Because I know you. I know that sometimes you do things and you think that it’ll be okay, that  _you_ will be okay, and then the moment ends and you realize it wasn’t what you want and you weren’t who you wanted to be. And this feels like one of those times. This feels like one of those big, life-defining moments, and I just... I want you to be able to walk away from it in the end.” 

“Yeah... Me too.” Taking a deep breath, she finally pushed up from the bed. “Listen, Riles, I know what I’m doing. Trust me, okay?” 

“Can I?” Riley wondered. “Can anyone trust an assassin?” 

And it hurt. It hurt that she had to ask. It hurt that she hung up, not waiting for an answer. It just  _hurt_. Because she was right. And if this happened, if she did this, could she ever really go back? Could she ever face Riley again? 

No. It was as simple as that. As much as Riley said she would love and support her through anything, even she had her limits. And they would only stretch as far as the end of this choice. If Maya did this, she knew Riley would never look at her the same, would never forget who she had become, and the only stable, good thing she’d had in her life would finally crumble. One last nail in the coffin that held anything good remaining inside her. 

Well, it was bound to happen one day. Maybe it was sooner than she liked, but she’d always sort of known it was coming, hadn’t she? 

 

* * *

 

 

The Barfly was a far cry from the kind of joints Maya usually hung out at. While she’d visited a few dance clubs in her time, open mics and art galleries had always been more her thing. The Barfly fell somewhere in the middle. People of all ages and backgrounds packed into the room, surrounding a stage where a band was setting up. There was no smoke inside, just a section outside for people to gather around. The bar offered a large selection of red meat drenched in BBQ sauce and every alcohol she could think of, as well as a few she’d never heard of. 

It didn’t quite look like the time of place that had reserved tables, but there was a folded piece of paper with ‘reserved’ scribbled on it that Lucas led them to after paying the cover charge. Since he shoved it into the pocket of his jeans as they sat down, she thought he might’ve just gone about reserving it on his own. 

“You look really nice,” he said as he clasped his hands atop the table. “I meant to say that earlier, but I was a little tongue tied when you walked up.” 

Her brows arched. “Are you always this honest?” 

He dipped his head. “I try to be.” 

“And you like that? You like being the good guy that everyone can depend on?” 

He smiled. “I guess. I’m not sure I ever really looked at it like that.” 

“How do you look at it then?” she wondered, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. 

“I just figure, I’m only around for so long. I might as well treat people how I wanna be treated.” He searched her eyes. “You don’t like good guys?” 

“I don’t know many,” she admitted. “Four, tops. One is my best friend’s husband. Farkle. Another is her dad, and her little brother. And then there was my step-dad. He was a good guy.” 

“Was?” 

“He and my mom didn’t work out and he travels a lot. I guess he still is a good guy, I just... don’t get to see him as much as I’d like.” 

He nodded. “I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to apologize for, Huckleberry. You didn’t break them up. It happens. Relationships start and relationships end.” 

“Sometimes. Sometimes they start and they just keep going.” 

“Yeah, well, not in my experience.” She shook her head. “I’ve seen it, so I know it’s real. I mean, Matthews and Topanga, that’s my best friends parents, they’ve been together since they were kids. And they always knew they were going to make it. And Riley and Farkle, he looks at her like she hung the moon, and she looks at him the same. They’re weird, both of them are, but... They’ll make it. I know they will.” 

“So, what makes you think you won’t find someone like that?” He shook his head. “Just because you haven’t found it before doesn’t mean you won’t.” 

“Have you ever thought about a career in fortune cookies? That was some serious cookie wisdom.” 

He laughed, ducking his head. “All right, so it was a little vague, but... I don’t know. I guess I like to look on the positive side.” He waved his hand. “Like today. We could’ve bumped into each other, apologized, went our separate ways. But instead, here we are and... and I’d like to see where it goes.” 

She hummed, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Optimist, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He grinned. “Maybe I’ll rub off on you a little.” 

“Maybe,” she murmured. 

The lead singer of the band tapped the mic then, drawing their attention. Maya looked toward the stage, but her gaze wandered back to her table-mate a few seconds later, only to find he was already looking at her. 

Life was weird. Just when Maya thought hers was going down a road she couldn’t come back from, it threw something— _someone—_ into her path. And now she was questioning things. Questioning _herself_. Wondering if maybe there were other ways to do things. Other options in life. Other paths. And she wasn’t saying Lucas was her path or her future or even her next five minutes. But, Riley was right. He was a person now, and not one she wanted to put a bullet in. Which meant she had a choice to make. Because if she did do this, if she decided not to put him in the ground, then there were a lot of loose ends she needed to clean up. Because walking away and leaving him to his fate felt just as bad as putting him down herself. So, either she took care of it herself or she fixed this whole thing. Maya never really saw herself as much of a fixer. She was usually the person who made the mess. And, true to character, she’d certainly gotten herself knee-deep in an epic kind of mess. But there was still time to do something about it, if she wanted to.

A crossroads. To kill or not to kill. To hope or not to hope. To be or not to be. Be what? Be a hired killer. A means to an end. A ghost of the girl Riley thought she was. That Matthews believed she could be. That she _hoped_ she would one day become. Maybe that her had died on the other side of the world, a gun in her hands, surrounded by death and war and wrapped in a blood-soaked flag. Did they bury her dignity with her? Her hopes and dreams and aspirations in life? Did they bury the rebel and the fighter and the scrappy girl that fought, tooth and nail, not to be a statistic?

Maya Hart, most likely to be arrested.

Most likely not to succeed.

Most likely to damage any future she had before it could start.

Most likely to live and die, hopeless.

Most likely.

She stared at Lucas Friar, just a cowboy looking for something in a woman that she wasn’t sure was there. Heart and soul and hope. She had .45 in her purse and a scar on her shoulder. She had scars he would never see, that no one could. Scar tissue crowding around a dying heart, smothering it. She was lost. A girl. A soldier. An assassin. A friend. A woman. A date. A person. A number. A gun. A daughter. A life. A grave.

A crossroads.

A _choice_.

“Hey, Huckleberry… I think we need to talk.” She pushed off her stool to stand. “Somewhere a little quieter.”

His brow furrowed, surprised and a little confused, but he followed after her, climbing down off his stool to make his way through the crowd with her.

Maya wasn’t sure what she was going to say, how she was going to explain any of this to him. Or if he’d just call her crazy and run for the hills. But she knew she had to do something. This was as much his fate as it was hers. She hoped Riley would be proud.

As soon as they were outside, she turned on her heel to face him.

“Did you wanna go somewhere else?” he wondered. “I know a diner not too far from here. Best pie in—”

“I’m not one to knock pie, _ever_ , but you’re going to need something a little stronger after I tell you this.” She stared up at him searchingly. “Your brother Jeremiah wants you dead. He’s hired an assassin to kill you and make it look like an accident so he can get the rest of your dad’s inheritence.”

“I… _What?_ ” He shook his head. “How... How do even _know..._ any of this?”

“ _Because_... I’m the one he hired.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
